


week 3 // FUTZ

by zfic



Series: ichiruki month 2K20 *.~ [3]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But also, F/M, Gamer AU - Freeform, IchiRuki Month, Princess Diaries AU, i made it make sense, ichiruki month 2020, listen it makes sense, royal au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25998256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zfic/pseuds/zfic
Summary: futz: inf - waste time; idle or busy oneself aimlessly.
Relationships: Kuchiki Rukia & Kurosaki Ichigo, Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo
Series: ichiruki month 2K20 *.~ [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875241
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	week 3 // FUTZ

**Author's Note:**

> it makes sense dw
> 
> tysm for your kudos and comments! i scream everytime i see one pop up 😭💕💕 dont forget to follow me on zfic.tumblr.com!!

Rukia stares down at her phone.

_Dear diary,_

_What the fuck?_

_Sincerely,_

_R <3_

Technically, she shouldn’t be this unnerved. Technically, she’s in the exact same boat as him, she of all people should get it, no?

But she doesn’t, because the fact the boat exists in the first place and they’re both on it is _insane_.

**Duke Ichigo Kurosaki, possible heir to the Kingdom of Shiba’s throne, revealed to be world-class professional gamer, BlackSun15.**

BlackSun15.

The same BlackSun15 she’d been flirting on again, off again for the past two years of their respective, though secret, gaming careers. They’d encountered their digital personas at thousands of online tournaments, friendly and competitive alike, and though they had never met, there was no doubt that post-tournament talks over private chats got…playful.

Rukia scrolls through her Instagram feed, her Twitter feed, hell, even her _Facebook_ feed, and Ichigo’s handsome scowl never failed to come up again and again and again.

Of course it would. They operated in the same circles and being the aristocracy of neighbouring municipalities, their paths crossed a number of times at galas and state dinners, international summits and the ascot here and there.

She had always found him aloof, slightly dangerous looking, with an intensity that could cut any woman in two.

Rukia stayed _well_ away.

But that didn’t stop their gazes meeting from across a ballroom or dining-room, didn’t stop his mouth tilting in way that sent a wholly unsolicited shiver up her spine as he sipped his bourbon or scotch, the same amber as his eyes.

Had he known who she was all that time?

That she was the same WhitexMoon that would hand his ass to him that evening, or the morning after, in _Brave Souls_ , _Resurrection_ , _Bounty_ , whatever.

It was this competitiveness that pushed them to place comfortably at the top of the _Brave Souls_ League. Him at sixth, she at fifth.

Rukia _had_ been fourth, but with recent preparations for her coronation as crown princess of the Kingdom of Kuchiki three days from now, she’d been otherwise preoccupied.

But, _shit._

Ichigo Kurosaki, the real world’s answer to Crash fucking Bandicoot, was- _was–_

**BLACKSUN15:**

**< you up?> **00:14

Rukia’s breath caught in her throat, and she quickly taps the message notification before it has time to disappear.

WHITEXMOON: 

<quite the day you’ve had, sir duke>  
00:14

 **< impressive, no?>  
**00:15

<that’s one word for it>  
00:15  
<why the sudden announcement?>  
00:16

 **< pr stunt >  
**00:16  
**< im a man of the people apparently>  
**00:17

<you sound SO sure of yourself>  
00:18

 **< lol it’s been crazy>  
**00:18  
**< just wanted you to know that this doesn’t change**  
**anything about yknow >  
**00:19

<the precious game? ;P>  
00:19

 **< the precious game hehe>  
**00:20

<you have my word, hot stuff>  
00:22

 **< and yet ****i still dont know wtf you look like >  
**00:23

<trust me im hot>  
00:23

 **< 👀>  
**00:24

Rukia laughs and bites at her bottom lip, thumbs hovering over her keyboard. In the past thirty minutes, her image of Ichigo has been well and truly shot to hell. Eviscerated. Because _this is the real Ichigo._ Would he be the same if they spoke in real life? 

Yes. But only if he knew who _she_ really was.

And he doesn’t. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t, anyway.

Rukia feels heat climb up the back of her neck. She doesn’t know why - telling him that she was WhitexMoon wasn’t the same as plastering her little secret across a billboard with a giant red arrow pointing straight at her saying, ‘ _This is the royal futz’._

But she _was_ proud of her achievement. Hers; no name, title or adopted family could give it to her. It was a reflection of her skill, her passion and damn, didn’t _earn_ a little privacy after years of being printed, posted and filmed constantly?

She tuts and sends him the flipping off emoji, putting her phone down before she can be tempted to look at it again, and gets under the covers.

She doesn’t sleep.

—

As was tradition, Rukia was expected to walk herself up the aisle to the alter, kneel, recite her vows to king and country, and be crowned princess.

As was tradition, Fridays were one-on-one nights with BlackSun15. A Friday that she’d be at her own coronation. In front of millions. 

Rukia was going to tell him, she really was going to tell him she wouldn’t be able to make their game.

_Dear diary,_

_~~‘Hey Ichigo, sorry I can’t play tonight, I’m royalty.’~~  
_

_~~‘Hey, Ichigo, I didn’t choose this life, somehow my dead sister did and now I have to pay for it.’~~ _

_Wow, that got really dark, Rukia are you okay?_

_‘Hey Ichigo, I’ve got this family thing, rain check?’_

**BLACKSUN15:  
** <dw, i have a coronation to get my ass  
to if you can believe it>

_Dear diary,_

_I…forgot he was invited._

_Wish me luck!_

_R <3_

—

The ceremony and reception turned out to be uneventful in the way that nothing fatal occurred, nobody’s hair caught on fire, nobody declared war on each other over dinner, nothing. Thankfully.

She recited her vows clearly, putting all her strength in her voice, all her passion for her country, her family. When she turned, lavender orb and sceptre in hand, gilded in pale gold and set with their national precious gems: amethysts and iolites, her eyes smarted on the bright head of hair within the first row of onlooking guests.

Ichigo had arched an eyebrow, his black doublet contrasting attractively against his tanned skin and the orders and medals that decorated his chest.

She ignored his shameless smile.

Until it was stood beside her, that is.

Rukia had escaped to the balcony round the back of the ballroom, where the curtains were always drawn and blocked out the quiet little place from inside minglers.

She lifts the flute of champagne to her lips, looking out at the well-manicured gardens palace gardens, the moon hanging fat and luminous in the sky.

“Your highness.”

Because like Romeo and Juliet, there _had_ to be a freaking balcony scene.

Rukia almost choked, lowering her glass and pressing the back of her hand to her mouth to hold her drink in, “Sir Ichigo.”

He grins, and she’s sure she can see the tilt of a smirk pulling at the top corner of his lip, “Congratulations on your coronation.”

“Congratulations on your secret identity reveal.”

Ichigo laughs, thunder and velvet, “Should I be flattered that the crown princess is keeping tabs on me?”

She leans back against the stone of the balustrade and gives him a smirk of her own, “Seeing as we’ve never bothered to talk to each other properly, I feel like stalking your Instagram was a step in the right direction.”

“No doubt the thousands of tabloid headlines helped.” He says, imitating her posture and slipping his hands in his trouser pockets, “And we haven’t? You sure?”

“Sure as anything, sir duke.”

She watches him arch that brow again, cock his head slightly to the side and say quietly, “What?”

And, _oh._

_Oh, shit._

Rukia’s eyes widen, “What?”

“I-you called me sir duke.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“No. They don’t.”

“Oh.”

A pause, “Wait.”

“I’d rather not.”

Ichigo leans toward her, bending low to murmur, “Looks like I’m not the only one that has a secret to tell.”

Rukia bites her lip, the soft lights dotted throughout the garden below them shine like fire opals in his amber eyes, “You’re not?”

“No,” his gaze drops to her lips, “you got anything to say,” their eyes meet, “white moon?”

And something…happens. Maybe it’s the wine, maybe the scent of cinnamon and cologne on his skin is going to her head, maybe for once, Rukia wants something more than just the game.

It’s supernatural, this pull, like she’s caught in an invisible net with nowhere to go but toward him. Supernatural an absurd.

Their lips touch, glancing off one another.

Again, and again, and again, growing deeper with every meeting.

His hand flattens on the small of her back, pressing her against him and her fingers card through his choppy hair. Ichigo kisses her softly, like the nature of the evening has just dawned on him, and then as if to say he doesn’t give a shit about any of that, he kisses her hard. 

Hard enough that her foot pops beneath her full tulle skirt and if this wasn’t the best kiss of her _life_ , she’d feel utterly ridiculous.

“Guess I should have known all my demons had your smile.”

“Cheesy,” she breathes, the tips of their noses brushing, “one out of ten.”

“Trust you to get a dig in right after my tongue was in your mouth.”

Rukia grins, “Maybe I’ll shut up if you try again.”

—

_Dear diary,_

_About last night…_


End file.
